


Echoes of Vision

by Pom_Rania



Series: Little By Little [2]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ezra needs a hug, Gen, Kanan needs a hug, Post-Episode: s02e19-20 Twilight of the Apprentice, canonical permanent injury, coming to the wrong conclusion, hugs will happen in future parts of the series, implied depression, it would almost be hilariously wrong if it wasn't so painful, starting to kind of think about recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 05:26:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9108460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pom_Rania/pseuds/Pom_Rania
Summary: In the aftermath of Malachor, Kanan has much to think about, including the odd behaviour of his student.





	

Kanan didn’t have much else to do but think. Hera was there, as often as she could be, but she had other responsibilities, and more important things to do than stay with someone who... with him. He was technically allowed to get up and walk around whenever he wanted, but he had nowhere to go, and would just end up getting dizzy and tripping anyways. He had audiobooks, but they only reminded him that he couldn’t read at his own speed, because he _couldn’t read_ now.

He tried to avoid thinking about some things, about how he… because he knew it would just take him in destructive circles, and that wouldn’t help anyone, wouldn’t help him. He tried reaching for the lessons he’d learned under his Master and the other Jedi, years ago – surely something would be relevant, useful – but they slipped out from under his metaphorical fingers. It had been years ago, a lifetime ago, and he couldn’t concentrate for any length of time. He had lost so much, and tried to ignore it, forget it, for years, letting the memories fade; now he’d lost something else, that he would never be able to ignore, and the faded memories couldn’t help him.

Ezra was there, sometimes. Sometimes he wouldn’t leave, even when Kanan could barely stand to be around him, or anyone. He would sit and fidget and presumably stare, or quietly cry, or start to quietly cry and then cry uncontrollably, or talk incessantly. He would tell stories, stories which seemed vaguely familiar to Kanan, of a reckless and unconventional yet brilliant hero who always saved the day, generally after a lot of running and screaming and falling. The names were unfamiliar – Ezra was obviously making them up as he went along – and the details were different, and some of them were entirely new to him, but one day (or night, he didn’t ask) it clicked.

“General Skywalker,” Kanan abruptly said. “We kept hearing about his adventures. He was our hero, the epitome of a Jedi, and what you’ve been saying sounds a lot like him. Where did you come across those stories?”

Silence. Ezra had to still be there, Kanan hadn’t heard him leave – he knew there were other ways of detecting someone’s presence, but he couldn’t _do_ that – then eventually, one whispered word: “Ahsoka”.

Ahsoka was gone. Even she couldn’t have survived against Vader, not for as long as she would have needed to. She had received more Jedi training than Kanan had, more than Ezra ever would; she would have had some ideas on how to –

She had been Fulcrum. Losing her meant more to the Rebellion as a whole, than it did to one-and-a-half Jedi. (Kanan wasn’t sure whether he counted himself or Ezra as the “half”.) He needed to keep things in perspective. He was still in better condition than a number of people under the Empire.

Ezra said nothing else for the rest of the time he was there, and when he left he just walked loudly, so Kanan would know what he was doing. He didn’t show up the next day, or at least the next time Kanan was awake after sleeping. He wasn’t there when the medical droid – the one with a specialty in ophthalmology, who had been called in specifically for Kanan – came by, or when that final prognosis was given.

It hit Kanan harder than he had expected. He had known he was blind, and there was a very low chance of ever being able to see again; but to hear for definite, from a professional, that there was nothing that could be done, other than learning to live with it.... He didn’t remember what happened next. Thankfully Hera had been there, and she told him later about follow-up visits and lowering the risk of infection and the necessity of caring for even irreparably damaged eyes.

The next time he encountered Ezra was when he was stumbling in the hallway, trying to get a sense of where everything was located without being able to see. He wasn’t going to get any better than he already was, and aside from his eyes he was perfectly healthy; he couldn’t keep relying on people to guide him around, not for the rest of his life. Even if he had trouble staying balanced, and had to have one hand on the wall at all times, there was no point in waiting.

Ezra said something indistinct and moved to his side, all without touching his arm. (Kanan had had enough of people grabbing him and pulling him around, even if he didn’t otherwise know where he was going.) He didn’t seem to feel like talking, and Kanan didn’t either. He only spoke three times: “Someone left a crate on the ground right in front of you”, “That’s the women’s ‘fresher, don’t go there”, and “I’ll be by later on today”.

True to his word, Ezra visited a few hours later. He sat down, started to speak, stopped, got back up, paced around. That went on for a few minutes, before he gave a sigh that almost sounded like a sob. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I was going to tell you earlier, but... I was planning to, right after....” He broke off, and his breath hitched like he was going to start crying.

And he did.

(Maybe this was how it started, Kanan thought; maybe he would become able to recognize things by sounds after hearing them numerous times. If that were the case, he would surely be able to identify pity and guilt and pain and directionless rage with ease, but anything more pleasant would remain a secret to him.)

“Ahsoka,” Ezra finally managed to choke out. “She told me... there were lots of ways... with the Force....” He blew his nose. “She didn’t know exactly, but from her... I think... I was trying to work something out, for sensing....” He hesitantly touched Kanan’s shoulder, then wrapped his arms around his teacher. “I can share with you what I’ve figured out,” he whispered.

Kanan didn’t have much else to do but think, and afterwards he found himself thinking a lot about Ezra.

He remembered a time, months ago, when Ezra woke up with a start, denied that anything was wrong, and then spent the rest of the day avoiding everyone, but especially Kanan.

He remembered the last time he’d suggested blindfolded training, and Ezra’s reactions to it: anxiety, repulsion mixed with attraction, and awkwardness so thick it was almost tangible.

He remembered coming across Ezra talking with Ahsoka, and hearing him ask her about if there had been any blind Jedi; and how, as soon as he noticed Kanan, Ezra had suggested they go somewhere else.

He thought about all that, and one conclusion stuck out to him. Ezra had had a vision. He had known, in some form or another, of Kanan’s then-future blindness.

Yes, that would explain a lot. Ezra’s guilt was because he hadn’t warned him (even though visions were notoriously anything but straightforward). He had tried to find ways to help in the future, while at the same time wanting to pretend it would never happen.

It made sense now. And as for the things it couldn’t explain, like newfound wariness around Chopper... well, everyone had their secrets, and for all he knew it was part of the low-level prank war which flared up from time to time.

Now, did that change anything, going forward? Kanan considered it, and made a conscious decision to say nothing to Ezra. Even if he’d been warned that he would, at some point, end up losing his sight, likely nothing would have changed. Maul had been trying to kill him, after all, and the blinding was only an unintended consequence of an unsuccessful attack. Still, just saying that could hurt Ezra more than he already was. There was enough pain going around for the moment; no need to add to it.

Maybe there were other ways in which Ezra had tried to prepare, ways that could help. Kanan wasn’t going to ask directly, but he would listen. He would have listened anyways, probably; only now, knowing that any suggestions came from months of prior knowledge, he could trust them to be sound at least in theory, and they could work something out together. Eventually. Hopefully.


End file.
